


THE WEIGHT OF BREVITY

by Knightsbridge07



Category: Black Panther (2018), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-06-25 15:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15643746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightsbridge07/pseuds/Knightsbridge07
Summary: Princess Shuri of Wakanda has done her best to move forward since the love of her life, James Buchanan Barnes, the White Wolf, has been exiled to parts unknown by King T'Challa. Now with a rift between herself and her brother, Shuri throws herself into the work of setting up community centers around the U. S. and lecturing on important issues.Now, after another hectic day on tour, she receives an unexpected message.(I know this summary isn't very intriguing.)





	1. It's Been a Long Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wakandawinterprincess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakandawinterprincess/gifts), [lilithenaltum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithenaltum/gifts), [Jedi_Queen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jedi_Queen/gifts), [MissFit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissFit/gifts), [Malaiikka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malaiikka/gifts), [shardsofglass (rayoflight)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayoflight/gifts), [Yalegirl03](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yalegirl03/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [Miinayi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miinayi/gifts), [Violette31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violette31/gifts), [Vamp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vamp/gifts), [Peacheschica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peacheschica/gifts), [TexannaRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TexannaRose/gifts), [AndIBecametheStars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndIBecametheStars/gifts), [CindersAndBrimstone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CindersAndBrimstone/gifts), [yubarta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yubarta/gifts), [rxinventlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rxinventlove/gifts), [AggressiveApple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AggressiveApple/gifts), [2Shay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/2Shay/gifts), [Aoluas Anminti (AoluasAnminti)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AoluasAnminti/gifts), [Izzyabra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzyabra/gifts), [NotAsSweetasASweetPotato](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotAsSweetasASweetPotato/gifts), [Beefybuckyismylife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beefybuckyismylife/gifts), [Aleja21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleja21/gifts), [sensevida](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sensevida/gifts), [Katieb161](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katieb161/gifts), [taryny_16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taryny_16/gifts), [asianlovingmexican](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asianlovingmexican/gifts), [sarcasticeyebrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticeyebrow/gifts), [DazzledByTheNorthman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DazzledByTheNorthman/gifts), [Imisstx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imisstx/gifts), [Rebeca_hale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebeca_hale/gifts), [chizoma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chizoma/gifts), [luckywabbit651](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckywabbit651/gifts), [Lizard979](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizard979/gifts), [TheRavynFire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRavynFire/gifts), [Jensfanfics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jensfanfics/gifts), [ShalaGurl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShalaGurl/gifts), [blackbanners](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackbanners/gifts), [designtechdk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/designtechdk/gifts), [rmforever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rmforever/gifts), [Keira_63](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keira_63/gifts), [SweetHufflepuff (LoviSobakunorozu)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoviSobakunorozu/gifts), [jojo16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojo16/gifts), [marvellousholland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvellousholland/gifts), [CatCat2008](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatCat2008/gifts), [divaribelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/divaribelle/gifts), [IcedAcidPopsicle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcedAcidPopsicle/gifts), [RoyalWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoyalWolf/gifts), [angleico315678](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angleico315678/gifts), [capsshuri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/capsshuri/gifts), [Guiniqua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guiniqua/gifts), [Thelittlescrimshaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thelittlescrimshaw/gifts), [whenxkilled027](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenxkilled027/gifts), [4WakandaWithoutQuestion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/4WakandaWithoutQuestion/gifts), [Yuzuvier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuzuvier/gifts), [ShootingStar13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShootingStar13/gifts), [littledarkone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledarkone/gifts), [HillElizabeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HillElizabeth/gifts), [shurismp3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shurismp3/gifts), [writingforeverapassion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingforeverapassion/gifts), [queenb1609](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenb1609/gifts), [Madnesse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madnesse/gifts), [livdameron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livdameron/gifts), [cannotthink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannotthink/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [Autiger01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autiger01/gifts), [nina09](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nina09/gifts), [and EysabellePerfume](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=and+EysabellePerfume), [softspots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/softspots/gifts), [argella1300](https://archiveofourown.org/users/argella1300/gifts), [MusicTruthLies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicTruthLies/gifts), [Suni_Gyrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suni_Gyrl/gifts), [Sorce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorce/gifts), [Space_Cadet_2021Read](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_Cadet_2021Read/gifts), [AmyIsARealPhelps](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyIsARealPhelps/gifts), [xDangerxZonex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xDangerxZonex/gifts), [uniqueisbetter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uniqueisbetter/gifts), [babyshan211](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyshan211/gifts), [Meatball42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/gifts), [PaintPott](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintPott/gifts), [huhellis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/huhellis/gifts), [RM_Worthington77](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RM_Worthington77/gifts), [truth_submarine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_submarine/gifts), [alexjanna91](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexjanna91/gifts), [LisMaknae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LisMaknae/gifts), [cyaneidae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyaneidae/gifts), [raavan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raavan/gifts), [Jade01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade01/gifts), [Cao_the_dreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cao_the_dreamer/gifts), [UngarnMoc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UngarnMoc/gifts).



> Neat lil' sidebar...I had this entire piece nearly completed until I had a cut-and-paste mishap and lost the whole thing.
> 
> I wrote this new story from top to bottom.
> 
> Yup.
> 
> Fear not, I'm still sane, just a little sleep-deprived.

**ATLANTA**

 

Shuri’s diplomatic appearance drew huge crowds, as she was set to be part of a lecture series on technology and its relationship to the natural world and social responsibility. The schedule for her three-day visit to Spelman College was grueling, to say the least. The run-up to her speech was a whirlwind of activity that included tours of the school’s science facilities—as well as brief stops at Morehouse and Clark Atlanta—group discussions with several of the classes, interviews and photoshoots with the campus newspaper, making the rounds on the morning TV circuit, an afternoon performance by a local youth orchestra, and finally a luncheon in her honor at her hotel's ballroom. Attendees included Spelman’s, Morehouse’s, and Clark’s presidents, as well as university officials from around Georgia and the country, star pupils from the area high schools, the city’s mayor, prominent social justice leaders, and children and staff from the newest community center funded by Wakanda. All the while, her detail of three Dora Milaje—conspicuous in their own intimidating beauty and regal bearing—were at her side, vigilant and unblinking.

 

With a pivotal Falcons game coming up on the weekend—which she would view from the skybox—the city’s already frenetic pace had kicked into overdrive. This “black Mecca”, she’d heard it called, was a beautiful sight to Shuri. The African-American residents of this town were as inspiring to her as she likely was to them.

 

By the time of her speech, Shuri was teetering on exhaustion. Backstage in her dressing room—thankfully the Dora Milaje detail posted themselves _outside_ the door—she drank two small bottles of water and ate a protein bar. The campus concert hall was packed to the rafters with an eager audience of students, fellow scientists, and dignitaries. A sign language interpreter had also been provided for those who were hearing-impaired. The lecture was live-streamed on YouTube and simulcast on C-SPAN and satellite radio.

 

She walked out on stage, waving to the audience, who were standing as they applauded. She waved at the crowd and smiled, and gave a genuine, affectionate hug to the black teenaged girl who introduced her.

 

Shuri lifted her chin and began. “We live in a technological landscape that demands ever more, yet smaller. In going from boomboxes, to Walkmen, to portable CD players, to MP3 players, and finally to multi-function cell phones, we’re at last able to pack our entire lives into a single device. But what’s the true cost of smaller-faster-cheaper?

 

“These devices require unique materials known as rare earth elements. And very often, they are drawn from developing nations who do not yet have the infrastructure to meet the medical, educational, and social demands brought on by mining and other heavy industrial activity. So, tonight, I present to you—the scientists of today and the future—two important questions. 1) Can we have technology that is so seamlessly integrated into our lives that we have considerably less need for devices? And 2) Can we ensure a cleaner, greener, more equitable future for ourselves and our brethren in the developing world? My answer to you is a resounding _yes_.”

 

Shuri was poised as she casually strolled the stage, remote control in hand for her presentation slides. Her now close-cropped hair gave her a respite from the heaviness of the braids she typically wore. She was attired in a conservative black sheath dress that was sleeveless and flowed out at the waist, stopping at the knee. The shoulders and hemline were detailed with black mesh. She wore silver kitten heels and a thin silver belt around her waist. Her smooth face was adorned with a nude lip gloss, lash-extending mascara, and eyeliner. Her only jewelry was a pair of diamond studs in her ears. The look served to highlight her natural beauty.

 

Between the audience’s applause and glancing back at her presentation slides, she searched.

 

Up in the rafters.

 

Near the spotlights.

 

Out among the spectators.

 

At the edge of the stage.

 

Shuri always told him that if she absolutely _had_ to pick him out of a crowd, she could do it in a heartbeat.

 

Everything in her would know where to find him.

 

She scanned the audience once more.

 

James wasn’t here.

 

And so, she did the only thing she could do, what he would want her to do—she soldiered on.

 

After her speech, she bowed deeply at the applause, then headed off-stage with a wave. She and the three Dora Milaje stepped out of the building through a side entrance and into a pair of waiting limousines, both armored. Two of them took the car behind the one assigned to Shuri.

 

She was quiet on the ride back to the hotel. Even inside the air-conditioned limo, the thick Georgia air clung to her, humid and heavy with the scent of a coming thunderstorm.

 

“Princess, you seem unusually…somber,” Ayo said breaking through her thoughts. “Perhaps, there is a place you would like to stop for food? I noticed that you hardly touched the provisions backstage at the concert hall.”

 

 _Somber, that’s one way of describing it_ , Shuri thought. “No, Ayo, I’m fine, it’s just been a long day. Thank you for your concern,” she said and lightly patted the other woman’s hand.

As much as she loved the trip and meeting children and college students who looked like herself, Shuri couldn’t quite muster the same degree of enthusiasm that she had when the excursion was in the planning stages last year.

 

That was ten months ago, right before her sainted brother blew her world to pieces.

 

Shuri heard a binging sound, and Ayo took her phone from her pocket and read a text.

 

“The Queen Mother and his majesty the king send their love, Princess. They say all of Wakanda is abuzz about your speech.”

 

She turns her eyes briefly from the darkening skies outside the window. “How can that be, Ayo? It’s almost three a.m. over there.”

 

“Many of the citizens stayed up past their bedtime. I’m certain they will be forgiven by their bosses for being a bit late to work.”

 

She grinned just slightly, which brought a satisfied squint to Ayo's eyes.

 

The greeting still did little to assuage Shuri’s dismay with T’Challa. Though she unreservedly loved her brother and wasn’t as angry as she had been almost a year ago, she was still cool toward him. Their conversations were short and touched only on their mother, matters of state, or what she was working on in her lab. Shuri did not seek out his counsel as she had before—not unless it was an absolute necessity.

 

And why _should_ she make any special effort to talk to him? He was wrong. She was right. And that was that.

 

Now the memory of that crushing day, coupled with the oppressive air, caused a flare of irritation she could hardly contain.

 

***

**WAKANDA**

 

Shuri flexed her fists to control her nerves as she watched her brother stand face-to-face with the man she loved. T’Challa had never been this angry, like he was ready to explode.

 

Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes—the Winter Soldier to most of the world—stood before T’Challa with his eyes trained on the intricately patterned floor of Shuri’s room. If he could bore a hole straight to the center of the earth, he would do just that. He was certain it would be safer than this.

 

T’Challa was standing so close to him that Shuri was convinced he could see the imperceptible flaring of her brother’s nostrils—a telltale sign of some next-level anger. Suddenly, he turned his livid glare from James to her.

“It’s not his fault, T’Challa,” she said calmly. “I _want_ to be with him.”

 

“Is that so?” he snapped.

 

He stepped back from James about two feet.

 

He lifted his chin just a little. “Your Highness, if I may be so bold—”

 

“Do you mean to tell me, Sgt. Barnes, that you have _not_ been bold these last six months?” he asked, the question dripping with uncharacteristic snark. “You would have me think you two have been _prudent_ in your doings? I invite you into my country, our very home, offer you sanctuary and every possible comfort and privilege. And this is how you repay that kindness—by carrying on with the princess—my sister—like…like some common alley cat? No, Sgt. Barnes, I think I’ve had quite enough of your _boldness_ and Shuri’s headstrong defiance to last me a while.” T’Challa turned once again to his sister, who was rooted in place. “And as for you, your dalliance with Sgt. Barnes is at an end, as of this very second. Do I make myself clear?”

 

Shuri’s left eye twitched as though she’d been plugged in after years of disuse. _Dalliance??!!_ Hot rage spread through her body, causing her to tremble. _It was not a dalliance, and how dare you call it such? James Barnes and I love each other. He did nothing I didn’t specifically want him to do. It was my choice to make love to him. You understand that, brother? My choice. I chose him. Now hear this! I, Shuri, of the Black Panther tribe and Princess of Wakanda, happily and proudly chose James Buchanan Barnes, and anyone who would like to render an objection may pucker up and kiss the entirety of my narrow ass, my 21-year-old grown, narrow ass. Thank you and good night. Mic drop._

 

Those were the words she wanted to say, could feel them coursing through her bloodstream. Those words, however, died in her lungs, crushed under the imperative to be diplomatic and tread lightly.

 

She strode up to James and took his hand in hers, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “T’Challa, please listen. You said it yourself, you invited James into Wakanda. Certainly, you wouldn’t have done so if you thought he was untrustworthy.”

 

“I suppose there’s more than one reason to call him the White Wolf,” he said nonchalantly.

 

James’ eyes widened as though he’d been gut-punched by a cannonball. His mouth tightened into a straight line as tears fell and met at his chin. He had no choice but to take the heat.

 

“You don’t have to be cruel,” she gasped.

 

T’Challa sighed deeply. “Perhaps that was uncalled for.”

 

James glanced at his love for a moment and straightened his back. “Your Majesty, may I speak?”

 

T’Challa gave a curt nod, allowing him the floor.

“You have every right to be angry at me. I know quite well of all the things you and the people of Wakanda have done to help me, and I appreciate it every minute of my life. That being said, I love Shuri with everything in me, I'm _in love_ with her. I don’t regret those feelings, and I don't I apologize for them. I _do_ take the blame, your Highness, for being so cavalier and having no decorum about my conduct with the princess. I apologize for bringing offense and strife into your home. So, if that means anything at all, don't be mad at your sister. Between me and Shuri, I'm a lot more—uh, what's the word—worldly than her, and I should've—”

 

“No, no,” Shuri cut in. “Forgive me, James, but I must say this. T'Challa, I’m an adult, too. I’m capable of making decisions for myself. I want James. I love him, and you can’t punish him for that.”

 

His face softened noticeably. Maybe he was starting to see things her way. _Now we’re getting somewhere_ , she thought.

 

“First, let me say, Sgt. Barnes, that I appreciate you being so honest and honorable in this situation. Your sincerity is impressive and cannot be denied. And Shuri, I’m quite aware that you’re an adult—an intelligent, thoughtful, optimistic and trusting young woman. It’s clear to me that Sgt. Barnes would never hurt you physically…”

 

“That’s right, your Majesty,” James said. “I would die for Shuri, gladly and without a second thought.”

 

T’Challa held up a hand as if to halt any further interruptions. “As I was saying, you’re a _young woman_ , Shuri, a young woman with her heart on her sleeve, especially now that you're so convinced you've discovered love. You have never been outside the shelter of Wakanda, and you’ve no idea the chaos that dwells beyond these borders. Everything looks ideal to you because, while we all know Wakanda isn't perfect by any means, it is as close as you can get on Earth.”

 

If their current position weren't so precarious, Shuri might take umbrage to her brother essentially calling her an idiot. She and James were far from being out of the woods, so she decides to table that fight for another day. _We will definitely come back to this,_ Shuri thought. Right now demanded that she remain level-headed if they were going to make it through this. And if that meant allowing her brother to speechify all sanctimonious and whatnot, then he could speechify to his heart’s content.

 

“You’re working to open Wakanda to the world, to show them who we really are as a nation.”

 

“True, but I’m doing that gradually, weighing the pros and cons at every step, seeking advice from people more knowledgeable than myself. I’m not just jumping headlong into the matter without considering the collective good of the nation. Yes, I’m doing it to help this world—but more specifically to help people who look like us, who’ve constantly been told they have no history and are incapable of greatness.”

 

His furtive glance toward James did not escape her. “You’re the king. You can override the council of elders.”

 

He squeezed the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Shuri, have you not listened to a word I’ve said? Yes, being in leadership has benefits, but brazenly flouting centuries of tradition to suit our personal whims is not one of them. It is no _fun_ for me, seeing you in this…debacle!”

“Don’t do this to us, T’Challa,” she sniffled. “Have you thought about what might happen to James if just one of the world’s governments is still looking for him? There are still lots of people out there with an ax to grind about Sokovia. How do you know James will be safe?”

 

“Tony Stark and Steve Rogers learned the truth in Siberia, and Helmut Zemo admitted to everything—impersonating that psychiatrist after murdering him, the explosion that killed our _Baba_ , all of it. I was there. I stopped him from blowing his own brains out, and I myself made sure he was delivered to the proper authorities. Zemo will soon go on trial for his crimes.”

 

He took a deep breath.

 

“The decision is final. Sgt. Barnes is to leave the country,” T’Challa said in a flat tone as he looked right at them. “You will have until the end of the day to gather your possessions and present yourself at the airstrip where you’ll be taken wherever you wish _outside_ of Wakanda.”

 

“No!” she sobbed. “No!”

 

“Shuri, calm down…” James tried to put his arm around her, but she yanked out of his grip.

 

“No, James, this is absolute _bullshit_! T’Challa, you can’t do this to us! It’s wrong, and you know it!”

 

T’Challa does not turn away from the exit he’s about to go through. “I’ll have two of the palace guards come and collect you in half an hour, Sgt. Barnes. That should give you and Shuri adequate time to talk. Until then, I’ll leave you to it.”

 

With that, the door clicked shut. Shuri flinched as though it was a gunshot that struck her right in the chest. That was essentially it, as far as she was concerned—a shot straight through her heart. The sound was still ringing in her ears.

 

The tears rolled down her cheeks in rivulets as her breathing became labored. James was at her side immediately, pressing her close and running his hands up and down her back to soothe her.

 

“James, w-what are we g-go-going to do?” she said, her words muffled against his chest. “He can’t—th-they can’t do this.”

 

“Okay, doll, look at me,” he said, gently framing her face in his hands and using his thumbs to wipe her tears. “Shuri, Shuri, look at me. C’mon, look. Breathe, breathe, nice and slow, just like this,” James took air in through his nose and let it out through his lips in a steady stream. She followed along. “That’s right, that’s my doll.” He pressed his forehead to hers when her breathing calmed. “It’s okay.”

 

“James, it is _not_ _okay_!” she gulped. “Don’t you understand? They want to tear us apart. And I can’t accept it. _We_ can’t accept it.”

“Baby, I don’t want this any more than you do,” he says as fresh tears fall from his own eyes.

 

“Good, then we agree. We’ll figure out something else. I can talk to my mother, go before the elders myself,” she says as she begins to pace about the room with her hands on her hips, suddenly energized. “We’ll need to get you a stay so that we can prepare our appeal.”

 

James smiled, his blue eyes far away and dreamy even as they followed her around her room. He loves that woman. Always thinking, always coming up with solutions, never letting a problem hold her back.

 

“Helloooo, Earth to James. Come on, soldier, get with it! We've got strategizing to do! What is it they say in those black and white movies you like? Um, oh yeah, _we ain’t licked yet_!”

 

He laughed softly and followed her until he caught her and pulled her into his arms once again. His chin rested on top of her braids. “Doll, I want you to listen to me, okay? We don’t have much time now.”

 

“I don’t expect them to grant you a stay of more than two days, so we’ll need to move fast. I can head down to the national archives and—”

 

“Shuri, please.”

 

“James, I _do not_ like where this is headed.”

 

 “I love you, I love you so, so much.”

 

“James,” she whimpered. “I mean it. _Shut. Up._ ”

 

“I love you, and I’m proud of you, proud that you’re _my_ woman. I was so broken when I came here. You put me back together, Shuri, made me sane. You did that. There was a monster living inside me, torturing me every minute of my life, and you rescued me from it. Wow, that’s amazing,” he laughed. “An actual princess rescued _me_.”

 

“D-don’t talk like that.”

 

“I remember the first time we made love. It felt like the universe was blooming inside me. Good grief, that sounds so damn corny,” James said as he rolled his red-rimmed eyes skyward, “but it’s the best way I can describe it. Every experience with you is special, whether we’re making love, or feeding the goats, or just laying in the hammock and talking about random stuff. You’ve given me so many things I _want_ to remember, beautiful, precious moments. That’s what you do, Shuri, you make things beautiful.”

 

“Shut up! Shut up! Why can’t you just shut your damn mouth? Please, babe!” she wept, drenching his tunic. “You’re trying so hard to say goodbye! It’s _not_ goodbye, so just stop!”

 

“You're the love of my life. My heart belongs to you, Shuri. Every part of me belongs to you.”

She put her arms around his torso and squeezed him hard. Right then, it occurred to James just how strong she could be. Her small stature belied that she was quite a powerhouse.

 

She pulled back to look up at him. “If that’s the case—if that’s what you truly believe, James, then _I_ have a say in what happens to you. And _I_ say you belong here with _me_. Wakanda is your home now, and you can’t be made to leave your own home.”

 

One corner of his mouth lifted into a tiny smile, and he kissed her forehead.

 

“You’re mine, James Buchanan Barnes. That’s all there is to it, you’re mine. And they can’t take what’s—”

 

James cut off her sentence with a kiss, fitting his mouth against hers like an interlocking puzzle piece. As his tongue slid past her parted lips, Shuri glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the wall opposite them.

 

 _Half an hour_ , her brother’s words stalked her mind like a dark cloud. Each revolution of the minute and second hands greedily burned through their last few moments together, scorning them with every ominous tick-tock. Shuri shut her eyes against the hateful object, as he tightened his embrace and lifted her off her feet.

 

“Mine,” she whispered, planting kisses across the length of his collarbone. “I love you.” She kissed his Adam’s apple, chased it with her tongue as it bobbed up and down. “I'm in with love you.” She kissed his jawline, feeling his eternal five o’clock shadow tickle her lips and nose.

 

“I’m sorry, doll, I’m so sorry about this entire damn screw-up,” James' long-suppressed sob burst forth at last.

 

She ran her lithe fingers through his brown hair, smiling at how soft and thick it had become with the all-natural products she’d given him to use. “It’s not your fault, my love. We did nothing wrong.” Shuri kissed the sensitive spot behind his ear.

 

Just as he set her back down on her feet, two palace guardsmen—both solid walls of muscle—stepped into the room. Shuri swallowed a scream.

 

“Sgt. Barnes, it is time,” one of them said.

 

James nodded, then turned his watery gaze back to her. He reverently pressed both her hands to his lips. Before he turned to go, he mouthed _I love you_.

 

“Wait,” she called, running up to them. “Let me come along. I just want to help him gather his things.”

 

The two guards looked at each other to consider her request, no doubt T'Challa's likely displeasure weighing on their minds.

 

“Please,” she repeated. “I am a royal of this house, and I will personally see to it my brother does not reprimand you.”

 

“As you command, princess,” one said, and both bowed to her with the X salute.

 

*****

 

When they arrived at his little lakeside cabin, the two guards went before James and Shuri. He went ahead through the door, but when she tried to follow after him, the guards blocked her way.

 

“Really? I said I just wanted to help him gather his things. Besides that, what could we possibly do with you two right outside the door?”

 

Again, they relented with a simultaneous nod.

 

“We must insist, Princess, that the door of the residence remain open,” one of them said gently. 

 

Shuri swallowed the lump—and the indignation—in her throat and complied. No time to be insulted. If she kept her wits about her and ignored all these humiliating affronts, she might yet be able to turn the tides of this mess in her and James' favor. She was a genius, more perceptive than most. There had to be some angle she was missing. _Think, girl, think. Light a fire under those brain cells._

 

When she entered into the space, James was standing in the center of the room. She walked up to him and kissed his shoulder blade. He turned to her with a look of resignation. Her heart sank. All she wanted to do at that moment was take him someplace safe.

 

“We better get to work,” he said.

 

There wasn’t much to do, so they went about the labor in short order. James took his one suitcase from the closet and emptied the chest of drawers of his clothes, while Shuri went into the small bathroom and packed up his personal care items. She didn’t dare look in the mirror for fear that the memories would assail her, memories of all the times they wiggled around each other trying to get ready for the day—her rinsing with mouthwash as she tried to hook her bra, him shea buttering his hair as a toothbrush was clenched in his jaw. Shuri swiped at a fresh round of tears as she completed the task.

 

When she returned to the main room, she found James in the center of it once again, the rolling suitcase packed and waiting at his side. He was staring at the neatly made bed. She knew he was remembering that night—her twenty-first birthday—six months earlier.

 

She’d told him that she wanted to be with him, that she was in love with him. Of course, he just had to be all annoying and old-fashioned— _I'm old and white--extra emphasis on both. You deserve so much better than me. I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret later. Are you sure? Say no at any point, and I'll stop. Do you understand what this means? I’m in love with you, too, so no takebacks_.

 

Shuri grabbed his collar and smashed her lips into his, effectively destroying any more of his reasons why they shouldn't be together. _About how sure do you think that is, soldier?_

 

“Well,” he said, breaking her reverie, “that’s about everything. Um, as for the goat-babies, I guess you can give them to the neighbors down the road. That’s where they sneak off to most times anyway. And the cabin, uh, I—”

 

Shuri put her finger to her lips in a shushing motion. She whispered so as not to alert the guardsmen. “I’ll do nothing of the sort, James. This is _our_ cabin, and those are _our_ goats.” She kissed his lips quickly. “I don’t know what it will take, I don’t know how long it will take, but you’re coming home. Bet on it.” She kissed him again.

 

James simply stared at her in awe. Whatever good thing he did to win this woman’s love, he just wanted to make sure he kept doing it. “Shuri, you beautiful, hardheaded thing you,” he whispered. “I love you."

"Princess, Sgt. Barnes, might we offer our help?" one of them asked.

"Ugghh...Kiss-ass Jabari pricks," she spat. Then, "We'll be out in a moment."

"Let's go, sweetheart, they're already suspicious," he said as he pulled up the suitcase's handle.

“Wait!” she said sharply.

He watched as she grabbed from the foot of the bed a colorful quilt—the one they’d used to cover themselves after their first encounter together. A morning thunderstorm had cooled the air that day and they cuddled together under it. She remembered fondly how they made out as the storm thundered off toward the forest. “I'll keep it with me. I also got you this.”

She took the colorful backpack from her arm and removed from it an intricately decorated leather cuff. The patterns consisted of an affectionate phrase written in the Wakandan language, which he had been learning for the last two years. She lovingly snapped the cuff onto his wrist and kissed the palm of his hand.

“Thank you, doll.”

 

“Of course, my love. Keep the backpack, too. It’s got some snacks and a few extra containers of the butters for your skin and hair. As far as I know, they’re not available outside Wakanda.”

 

He kissed her again, as long and as deep as his lung capacity would allow.

 

On the ride to the airstrip, the guardsmen kept them separated—James up front on the vehicle's passenger side and Shuri in the backseat. He could hear it as she was trying her best to be brave, to stem her tears and keep her hands from shaking, struggling to breathe through it.

 

She knew that his eyes were closed in meditation, just like she taught him, knew that he was trying to transport himself out of this moment. _IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou_ , he chanted within the deepest reaches of his psyche, hoping somehow Shuri might hear it.

 

As the airstrip came into view, Shuri felt her insides collapse. She wanted with every fiber of her being for this to just be a nightmare, to wake up with him in their bed in their cabin. Why could she not wake up?

Her James was being sent away like some common criminal. His only offense had been loving her, and now his sentence was exile.

 

**ATLANTA**

By the time Shuri had completed her nightly soak in the spa tub and sank into the luxurious bed, the bottom had dropped out, and rain pounded against the windows of her penthouse hotel suite. Elaborate flower arrangements and sumptuous gift baskets were spread all around the well-appointed room, all congratulatory items from the dignitaries and well-wishers from the day’s events.

 

With the thick, white robe wrapped tightly around her, she pulled a pillow close to her and listened to the thunder rumbling across the heavens. As the lightning cut through the sky, Shuri was thankful to be so high above the traffic. The city was still jumping, even though the weather had driven many indoors.

 

She took her phone from the night table and went through the messages, only answering the ones from her mother Ramonda, and T’Challa. Shuri then switched to the camera app to flip through some of the photos. She let out a long breath and rested her head on the pillow.

 

An image of James—brown hair flowing, shirtless, and wrapped only in a sarong—flashed a smile. He had been wading in the lake in front of the cabin to get relief from the heat. Shuri recalled wanting very much to capture the shot, as he looked positively angelic backlit by the setting sun.

 

“James,” she breathed into the pillow and rested her head.

 

The phone slid from her hand as she fell asleep.

 

*

 

A little more than an hour had gone by, and it was still raining heavily. Shuri’s phone binged, indicating a new text. She felt around for it on the bed, finally finding its resting place and rubbing her tired eyes.

 

She bolted straight up when she read it.

 

_2W: Hello, doll…_

 

 

_The end...?_


	2. Out of the Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuri thinks she might be dreaming.

**ATLANTA**

 

Shuri’s mind immediately began racing. Maybe she was still tired and needed to get back to sleep. She did have to be up at 6 a.m. for a radio interview, then there was the Falcons game later in the afternoon.

 

 _Yeah, that’s it. I’m burned out_ , she thought. _Just go back to sleep, Shuri_.

She yawned and settled back into the pillows, letting the phone fall at her side.

 

 _Just a dream…yep_.

 

_Bing!_

 

Shuri lifted her head again and picked up the phone.

 

_2W: Shuri? You there?_

 

She sat up again and stared at both texts. She nervously glanced around the room, trying to think of who she knew that might refer to themselves as _2W_. Most of the U. S. knew her name by now, knew she was touring the country with her lecture series. None but her family and the Dora Milaje had the number to her phone, and the line was secured. It couldn’t be any of them. _Hmm, 2W, who could—_

 

**SOMEWHERE IN THE UNITED STATES**

_Shuri: Is it you?_

The corner of James’ mouth lifted into a smirk as he turned from the window with his cell phone. The street outside his location was quiet and dark, except for the occasional passing car. He slid down to the floor to sit right next to the window and maintain his watch. He spelled out in Xhosa:

 

 _2W: Never fail to hope, my love_.

 

_Shuri: My James!_

 

He released a barely audible moan, causing his eyes to glaze with unshed tears.

 

In the ten months they’d been apart, not a day passed that her face didn’t accompany his every waking moment. She took his hand every night in his dreams. Every day, his prayer—a fervent chant that vibrated throughout his body—was that he’d somehow get back to her. In his heart and mind, Shuri was Wakanda. Shuri was his home. He took to heart all the things she’d said the day he was exiled…

_You’re mine_.

 

 _You belong here with me_.

 

_…you’re coming home._

 

 _I love you_.

 

He fed on those words for sustenance, for his very survival. For her, he would keep doing his best, keep fighting, keep breathing.

 

Keep hoping.

 

James hitched up the sleeve of his denim jacket and ran his fingers over the leather cuff on his wrist. He could trace the intricate pattern and the words from memory… _Never fail to hope, my love_.

 

Being apart from her was a pain so deep there were no adequate words to describe it.

 

But thankfully he had now. They had contact. They had these brief, sweet moments.

 

He answered back in English.

 

 _2W: In the flesh, or whatever texting is in that case_.

 

 _Shuri: I miss you so much. I’ve been going crazy. Where are you_?

 

_2W: Sorry doll. Not at liberty to say_

 

_Shuri: What do you mean? Is it safe for you to talk? Are you ok?_

 

_2W: The line is safe. I’m alright. Please don’t worry._

 

For the next few minutes, there’s nothing, and he can only hope he hasn’t alarmed her.

  

**ATLANTA**

 

Shuri covered her face with a pillow to stifle her weeping so as not to alert the Dora Milaje in the adjoining suites. A million emotions slammed into the princess all at once. _James! 2W…White Wolf._ How could that have escaped her? _Definitely not a genius moment, Shuri. We’ll just keep that to ourselves, though_.

 

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so happy. That was quickly tempered, however, by concern—not worry—he’d told her _not_ to worry. Which was a clear indication that maybe she _should_ be worried. Why was he not at liberty to reveal his location?

 

James _had_ to be safe, though, or he wouldn’t have been able to contact her at all.

 

She typed a reply.

 

_Shuri: I’ll TRY not to worry. That’s all I can promise._

_2W: Then I’ll take that._

_2W: I love you_.

 

 _Shuri: I love you too_.

 

_Shuri: Do you know where I am right now?_

_2W: Atlanta…giving a big speech. You did great, I heard some of it on the radio. You like it, Atlanta I mean?_

_Shuri: It’s quite a nice city. Wakanda should definitely set up an embassy here. You ever been?_

_2W: Honestly, I’m not sure. If I have, I probably don’t want to remember the visit_.

 

Shuri nodded thoughtfully. James’ travels post-World War II had been at HYDRA’s command.

 

 _Shuri: I wish I could touch you right now_

 

 _2W: I wish you could touch me too_ … ;-)

 

She snickered. _Mastering the use of emojis, I see._

 

_Shuri: I meant I just want to make sure you’re ok. But yeah, that too…_

 

 _2W: I’m ok_ _doll, seriously. You promised me you wouldn’t worry._

 

_Shuri: I told you I’d TRY not to worry. You don’t make that easy, my love._

 

 _2W: I know. I’m sorry._   :-(

 

**SOMEWHERE IN THE UNITED STATES**

 

The knock at the door startled him just a bit. James bit his bottom lip and rose up cautiously from the floor.

 

_2W: Gotta go doll. I’ll text u later I love you so much_

 

He shut the phone completely off and slid it into his inner pocket.

 

**ATLANTA**

 

Shuri shook her head and laid the phone down on its face.

 

Finally, at least she knew he was alive, and as far as she could tell, still very much her James. Of course, there isn’t much one can extrapolate from texting. With him, things needed to be much more…tactile. She wanted to see him, touch him, feel him under her hands. She wanted him to walk through the door, undress, and crawl in bed with her, encircle her in his arms while they slept.

 

She leaned back against the pillows against the headboard. Outside the window, the storm had begun to slacken. The thunder was further off in the distance. But for now, all she had was this…his tender words coming to her from some unknown location. For all Shuri knew, James could be right down the hall. Not likely, but a girl could hope. She and the Dora Milage detail had the entire floor to themselves—security protocols—per her brother the king…

 

Of course.

 

Shuri picked up the phone once again and activated the photo function. She smiled at the picture of him wading in the water, standing in the sun…looking angelic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, feel free to comment and critique. I find it gives me encouragement!
> 
> Big thanks to all those who have read, commented, and kudo'ed!!!


	3. You Think You Know Someone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to when Shuri and T'Challa have a brief heart-to-heart about Barnes' exile and the hard feelings that still remain...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your commentary and kudos. Do keep it up! If you have suggestions, feel free to post in comments.
> 
> wakandawinterprincess, lilithenaltum, Jedi_Queen, MissFit, Lonelyriveflow, shardsofglass (rayoflight), Yalegirl03, Oopswakanda, Miinayi, Violette31, Vamp, Peacheschica, TexannaRose, Harpyienkind, AndIBecametheStars, CindersAndBrimstone, yubarta, rxinventlove, AggressiveApple, 2Shay, Aoluas Anminti (AoluasAnminti), Izzyabra, NotAsSweetasASweetPotato, Beefybuckyismylife, lilacsandlostlovers, Aleja21, sensevida, Katieb161, taryny_16, asianlovingmexican, sarcasticeyebrow, DazzledByTheNorthman, Imisstx, Rebeca_hale, chizoma, luckywabbit651, Lizard979, TheRavynFire, Jensfanfics, ShalaGurl, peauetosque, designtechdk, rmforever, Keira_63, SweetHufflepuff (LoviSobakunorozu), jojo16, marvellousholland, CatCat2008, NourMichelle, divaribelle, IcedAcidPopsicle, RoyalWolf, angleico315678, dragonryder94, capsshuri, Guiniqua, Thelittlescrimshaw, whenxkilled027, 4WakandaWithoutQuestion, Yuzuvier, ShootingStar13, sippycupstealer

**WAKANDA**

**_Three months earlier…_ **

 

 

Shuri and two stylists stood back poring over several racks of chic fashions. Most were by Wakandan dressmakers and seamstresses, but there were numerous selections by top-end western designers as well—Stella McCartney, Ralph Lauren, Tom Ford.

 

For her upcoming tour/lecture series, her various looks had to strike a delicate balance—high-class, yet down-to-earth, serious, yet fun, commanding, yet approachable, conservative, yet alluring. Shuri specifically told the stylists, _That Kate Middleton is a nice girl, but I’m not trying to cop her look. I don’t need any ‘who wore it better’ comparisons from the magazines_.

 

She sat down at her vanity table and looked at herself in the mirror. “I’m thinking I should get rid of the braids. Whatta you guys say?”

 

Zawadi, a young woman of the Border Tribe who was a fashion student in New York stepped behind her and ran the braids through her fingers. “Well, you will need someone who knows how to style them, and your regular braider won’t be able to make the journey with you.”

 

“So, cut them out?”

 

“Your natural hair will be a good look and easy for you to maintain,” said Kaikara, who owned his own boutique.

 

“We have a consensus. The braids go,” Shuri said.

 

“We’d be glad to help you remove them, Princess,” Kaikara chimed in.

 

A knock at her door interrupted her as she was about to accept the offer.

 

“Who is it?” she asked brightly.

 

“Your beloved sibling, Shuri,” T’Challa said. He cracked open the door and poked his head in. “I hope I am not intruding.”

 

Shuri let out a deep sigh. “Come on in.”

 

T’Challa walked in at a leisurely pace, his hands clenched behind his back. He glances the racks of clothing and nods kindly at the two stylists.

 

“Your Majesty,” they both say with a smile and give the Wakandan salute.

 

“Well, I see the stores have been emptied of all their worldly goods,” he joked.

 

“The princess has made some excellent selections for the upcoming tour, your Highness,” Zawadi said.

 

T’Challa smiled down at his sister who was still sitting at her vanity table. “I do not doubt _that_ at all. Shuri’s fashion sense has always been…unique.”

 

He caught sight of the reflection of Shuri’s unreadable face in the mirror.

 

Finally, she clears her throat. “What brings you by, T’Challa? I thought _your_ schedule was quite hectic today.”

 

“I just thought I would come by to say hello, see how you were doing, as I’ve not seen you at all today, or not much the whole week, really.”

 

“We have both been busy lately, missing each other is not so out-of-the-ordinary,” she says as she randomly rearranges her personal care items. Anything not to look at him.

 

Zawadi and Kaikara eye each other in awkward silence as they rehang the clothes she did not select for her trip.

 

“Shuri, I would like to speak with you, if I may,” T’Challa says in an even tone.

 

She raises her eyes to see his reflection behind her. “Kaikara, Zawadi, thank you for your help on today. I shall see you both tomorrow, same time?”

 

“Certainly, Princess,” Zawadi says.

 

“Yes, good evening, your Majesty, Princess,” Kaikara adds, and the two give the salute once again.

 

Shuri’s door clicks shut after they leave.

 

In the tense stillness, T’Challa walks cautiously up to the gray, tufted storage ottoman at the foot of her bed and has a seat in the middle. He pats either side of it as though deep in thought.

 

“You know, I recall when you were about five. You would pester me to play hide-n’-seek with you, and you always hid in this ottoman. Do you remember that, Shuri?”

 

“Mmm hmm,” she hums.

 

“I always pretended that I just could not find you, and then I would act frantic—calling Mother and Baba, the palace guards—”

 

“T’Challa, is there something you wish to discuss?” Shuri asks with profound exasperation and annoyance. “Small talk has never been your strength.” She finally turns from the mirror to face him.

 

He shakes his head slightly. “Well, so much for being delicate. I take it you still have hard feelings about the decision concerning Sgt. Barnes?”

 

“Why what _ever_ would give you _that_ impression?” Shuri blinks once and purses her lips, then turns back to her vanity.

 

“I don’t know what you expected me to do. I cannot simply throw my weight around in these matters, and my being king does not change that fact.”

 

“I’m aware of that, brother,” she says with a minor degree of sympathy.

 

T’Challa watches quietly as she crosses to the other side of the room and takes a varsity-style jacket from one of the rack. She holds it against herself while examining the piece in her full-length mirror. He considers her current outfit—baggy, denim overalls with a midriff-baring, Hello Kitty! T-shirt, door-knocker hoop earrings, and a pristine white pair of Air Force 1 sneakers.

 

 _She is twenty-one_ , he thinks to himself. _Twenty-one_. _That is not a young woman who falls in love with a 100-year-old man, even if he is going to look twenty-five for the foreseeable future. She just doesn’t understand now, but she will in time. In just a few years, Shuri will look back on her infatuation with Barnes as just that—a silly, utterly illogical infatuation. He will be a distant memory, and she will find a handsome, successful Wakanda suitor who will treat her like the precious gem she is. _

_That is the inevitable end of this story, my willful younger sibling, so you may as well accept it. The sooner the better._

He was glad that neither Ramonda, Nakia, or—Heaven forbid—Okoye, could hear that thought.

James Buchanan Barnes was a good man, the young king supposed, but he was a man nonetheless—a non-Wakandan, an outsider, a _colonizer_ , a _white American_ colonizer from a wholly different era—a man who could kill a person any number of ways. Judging by Barnes’ obvious aesthetic appeal and personal charisma, his pre-HYDRA self must have been quite popular with the ladies of his time.

_I made the right decision._

“Maybe I _will_ take this jacket,” Shuri says. She carefully lays it on the chair near the mirror, then turns her attention back to her brother. “I know you can’t just throw your weight around. You _could have_ , however, defended him. You know he didn’t do anything wrong, T’Challa.”

“Shuri, I hope _you_ know that we only have your best interests at heart.”

_And there it is_ , she thought, what had to be her least favorite phrase in the world right now. She let out a tired, exasperated laugh. “Aye-aye-aye,” she huffed dramatically. “It’s funny you should say that. James said something very similar.”

 

“Then Sgt. Barnes and I agree, your well-being is foremost.”

 

Shuri shakes her head as she runs her hand across a rack of clothes. “It never ceases to amaze me how everyone _has_ _my best interests at heart_ ”—she emphasizes the phrase with quote fingers—“but no one ever thinks to ask me _my_ opinion. While you and everyone else are busy trying to decide what’s best for me, no one asks me how I feel, or what I think, or what I want. I get counted out before I even have a say. No problem, though, Shuri’s feelings are just a minor inconvenience.” She turns to hide her face in the clothes as she screws it up. “Shit,” she hisses under her breath as tears fall before she can halt them.

 

Here she was all prepared to be tough, and now look.

 

T’Challa can hear her crying, wants to go to her and hug her. He also considers she’d prefer he keep his distance. He holds his chin as though pondering her admission. “And you think that is what happened with Barnes—that I didn’t consider what you wanted?”

 

“Honestly, T’Challa, I don’t know,” Shuri hiccups as she turns to face him. “Maybe you were just thinking about what was proper. Contrary to what you may believe, I _do_ understand that ruling a country has more responsibilities than perks.”

 

He pulls the seat out from her vanity table and calls her over. “Shuri, come and sit. Please,” he says and pats the stool.

 

She sighs deeply, walks over, and does as he requests. She splays out her hands as if to say _What?_

 

“Talk to me, honestly, just as we did when you were a little girl.”

 

Shuri rolls her eyes skyward. “That’s just it, I am not a little girl anymore, T’Challa. I’m not playing hide-n’-seek and giggling from inside that ottoman.”

 

“We’ve established that. You are not a little girl. I just want to know, _why_ Barnes? What makes you believe he’s the one?”

 

“Are you really asking me that?”

 

“Yes, I want to know. What is this magical connection you’ve forged with a white man who spent the last seven decades sliding in and out the shadows killing people?”

 

T’Challa instantly regretted the remark, as Shuri’s face dropped to the floor.

 

“Forgive me, forgive me. Please, go on.”

 

“He’s just…” Shuri smiled. “James is the sweetest, purest soul you’ll ever meet. HYDRA did their level best to destroy that, but they couldn’t. Every time the real James Barnes threatened to re-emerge, they tortured him more and more, tried to…erase him. But he refused to be erased. He’s a fighter.”

 

Shuri supposed she could tell T’Challa about all the things she’d seen inside James’ mind when she was working to remove HYDRA’s programming. It would have soundly made her point to tell him about the Brooklyn boy who always stood up for his scrappy, scrawny, sickly best friend. Or to tell of his fall from a moving train during World War II and how his last conscious thought had been hoping that Steve Rogers didn’t feel guilty for not being able to catch him.

 

She could very well have told her brother that and hundreds of other things. But James trusted her, and she honored that trust. His life story was _his_ to tell when _he_ felt the time was right time to do so. Until then, his secrets—good and the not-so-great—were under lock and key with her.

 

But really, what clarification was he hoping she could provide? Love wasn’t something that could be explained by formulas and theories. When it happens, you just ride with it.

 

“I wasn’t looking to fall in love with him or anyone else, actually. But it happened, I fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes. All I know is…I don’t want…I don’t want to be apart from him. Wakanda is his home, and he belongs here.” She swallows hard enough that he can see the lump move down her neck. “Even if you don’t want him to see me anymore.”

 

At the end of the day, when she thought about it, maybe T’Challa was right to be skeptical, to question this whole affair— _ahem, relationship_ , _thank you very much_. What did she, a modern young woman of the new century, have in common with James, a man from a bygone era, a man out of time?

 

James loved her, that’s what, and Shuri loved him.

 

T’Challa was free to question all he wanted, that was his right. He and the elders _didn’t_ have the right to keep them apart. They _didn’t_ have the right to cause her to worry about his safety, whether he was eating well, or if he’d created for himself new routines to train his mind, or if he’d found good mental health professionals. What she and James shared was…unthinkable, crazy even, but it was theirs. They knew what they had, and she didn’t want to wait for everyone to eventually-hopefully-maybe catch up with the times.

 

He looked at his sister with some consideration. She was young, that was the end of it. It all sounded so pretty when she said it, but that wasn’t real life. _Barnes’ brains are scrambled harder than rubbery eggs, and Shuri’s isn’t even fully matured yet. No wonder she couldn’t explain what it is that draws them together_.

 

T’Challa placed a caring hand over hers. “Am I really so wrong to be concerned for your safety?”

 

She leaned forward. “Safety and happiness sometimes do no abide together.”

 

She remembered what he’d told her about a year out of the cryo-chamber.

 

Shuri had gone to visit him to check on his progress. She’d found him standing by the lake, feeding a family of ducks as they floated about on the water’s surface. It had occurred to her even back then that maybe she was overeager to visit with him, found him a bit too attractive, wasn't exactly turned off by his Brooklyn accent.

 

 _I coulda been dead a million times by now, super soldier or not_ , he’d said as he tossed the ducks a few crumbs. _I mighta favored dying. At least then the nightmare’d be over. If you didn’t come along, Shuri, I might still feel that way._ _I don’t know why I so was lucky to get to be here, but I’m glad._ James’ mouth crooked into a little smile. He took her hand gently in his—maybe held it a bit too long—and he put some bread crumbs in her palm. As she stood next to him feeding ducks, it occurred to her with a jolt that she was in love with the man.

“The things we long for are rarely ever in the _safe_ places,” she says and rises up from the stool. _And James isn’t here in Wakanda, ergo..._

“Shuri, I—”

 

The beeping of his kimoyo beads caught his attention. Okoye’s image popped up in the holographic display.

 

“Forgive the disturbance, your Majesty, but we have an urgent call from the Avengers.”

 

One eyebrow lifts on the Black Panther’s face. “The Avengers. Did they give any details concerning the situation?”

 

“No, your Highness. They said they must speak with _you_.”

 

Shuri turned back to her brother, concerned. It must be serious if even General Okoye could not be included in the briefing.

 

“All right, I am on my way now, Okoye. Let them know.”

 

“Yes, your Highness,” she says with the bow of her head.

 

The display shuts off.

 

“It sounds…serious,” Shuri says guardedly. She’s instantly back in protective sibling mode. “Maybe the tour should be canceled.”

 

“I don’t think we need to consider that just yet,” T’Challa answers as he gets up from the ottoman. “We will continue our discussion at a later time. Will you be willing to do me that favor?”

 

She takes a deep breath. “I’ll consider it, brother.”

 

T’Challa pulls her into his embrace and kisses her forehead. “I _do_ love you…very much. I hope we can be friends again soon.”

 

She nods against his chest and loosely returns his hug.


	4. Radio Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The princess takes her speaking tour to Miami, and she TRIES to enjoy a bit of poolside downtime, but it's been two days, and she's a bit antsy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm getting the hang of this. Feel free to comment.
> 
> By the by, thanks for being big inspirations, wakandawinterprincess and lilithenaltum!

**SOMEWHERE IN THE UNITED STATES**

 

James looks in the small mirror next to the front door and presses on his right temple. He’s instantly transformed from a winsome, brown-haired brunette with a crooked smile to a raven-haired, menacing figure with green eyes. Spencer Hadrian, this new character was called.

 

Sliding in and out of the shadows, striking without warning, pretending to be someone else—these were not skills James practiced, more like bad habits his body remembered. Like addicts remembered needles or pipes. It wasn’t something he sought out, it was what he knew.

 

He had wanted to forget. His conscious, newly rebooted self craved sunshine, fresh air, greenery, waterfalls, animals—things he no longer had since being exiled from Wakanda.

 

All was now gray again, at least _he_ thought so. The metropolitan area where he was currently located had its pleasing spaces with art and sculptures and upscale surroundings. Then there were those places demarcated by invisible lines, where things _weren’t_ so inspiring. He remembered living in such a place as a boy.

 

Now, he waits, once again, in a place like that.

 

He opened the door when the person on the other side knocked again.

 

The man standing in front of him is a sketchy character with dirty blonde hair and a clean-shaven face. He wasn’t very tall, and he wore street clothes that allowed him to blend in with the working-class surroundings. They nod curt, wordless greetings, and the man steps inside and looks around as though he’s casing the joint.

 

“Mr. Hadrian?” he says.

 

“That would be me, Spencer Hadrian.”

 

“So, uh, you’re in the market for some new tech, I’m told.”

 

“You’ve been told correctly,” James said with authoritative intimidation. “Show it.”

 

The blonde leered, baring straight white teeth like a toothpaste commercial. “We’re an eager beaver, aren’t we, Mr. Hadrian?”

 

“ _I’m_ losing patience,” he answered with his WASPy new voice.

 

“All right, all right,” the blonde says as he pulls from his pocket what looks like a band of Kimoyo beads.

 

James tenses up, but not visibly. He can’t afford to cause suspicion in the other man. He takes the beads and examines them closely. _These are the real deal,_ he thinks, as his disguised metal hand turns each individual bead.

 

“How did you get these?” James asks evenly and returns the object to the man’s palm.

 

“We came across them on one of our jaunts through Africa—Mozambique this go-round. The gentleman who sold them to me isn’t from there, though. Some kind of communication device. _Very sophisticated_ tech for such a place.”

 

James’ lower jaw twitches from being forced to stifle his umbrage. He knew exactly what he meant by _very sophisticated_ and _such a place_.

 

“What else do you have? You don’t expect me to deal, and all you’re offering is these… er…this trinket.”

 

“You can come to the storage facility at the docks and check out some of our wares.”

 

“Tomorrow afternoon should be fine, say about 12:30. The working stiffs will mostly be breaking for lunch at that point.”

 

“Certainly, then, _Mr_.?”

 

“Pierce Bremmer,” the man says and stretches out a hand.

 

James simply looks at it with disdain. “I’d like to get a look at what you and your associates have in your facility, Mr. Bremmer. Then I’ll decide if I like you.”

 

Pierce raised his hands in the air with a flourish. “Fair enough, Mr. Hadrian. When you see our stock, I’m certain you and I will become good friends _and_ business partners.”

 

“We shall see,” James says with a nod.

 

**MIAMI**

_Two days_ , Shuri thought to herself as she stared at her phone. _Two days and nothing_.

 

Things in Miami had gone pretty much as they had at the other tour stops. This time, she had spoken at the University of Miami and paid a lengthy visit to a center in the predominantly Haitian community. In between, there had been receptions, a charity auction, morning radio and TV interviews, and a spin around a Grand Prix track in an experimental Ferrari (quaint).

 

Now, back at her posh hotel, Shuri sat on a chaise lounge near the pool wearing a bathing suit with a funky print. Ayo sat nearby while the other members of her Dora Milaje detail enjoyed a bit of downtime fun swimming in the pool.

 

Shuri didn’t want to reveal herself to them in any way, so she kept her phone within arm’s reach and acted uninterested in it. If she did hear the text notification, she didn’t rush to see who it was.  Besides that, it was usually just her mother, T’Challa, Okoye, or Nakia. She usually took about an hour to answer them.

 

 _Two days_!

 

Her big sunglasses hid her emotions, which now churned inside her and threatened to spill forth as tears. Maybe she _was_ being silly. James had said he wasn’t at liberty to reveal his whereabouts. He had said he was okay. It was never a good thing when a man tried to assuage a woman’s concerns.

 

 _2W: I’m alright. Please don’t worry_.

 

It seemed now the words were mocking her. What was she supposed to do? It’s been dead air for two days. He’s been gone from her life for nearly a year. He wasn’t gone from her heart, though. When she was alone in her hotel room, she would stare longingly at the precious text thread, like a star that had fallen from the heavens. Shuri missed him so much. Was James really as ‘alright’ as he claimed to be, or was he just trying to placate her and keep her from searching for him? He wouldn’t dare lie to her, no matter what. Keeping your mouth shut—or your texting fingers still—didn’t exactly count as lying.

 

 _You’re driving yourself up a wall, Shuri. The man said he’s okay, he’s okay_.

 

Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes—ex-Army, former international assassin, and able to turn the most innocuous objects into deadly weapons—was more than capable of taking care of himself. _Okay_ would be a colossal understatement.

 

Still…all she wanted was to see him with her own eyes, hear his voice with her own ears, touch him with her own hands. Touch every part of him to ensure that all was intact, hold him to make certain he was real.

 

Shuri finally grabbed her phone from inside her mesh bag and went through the new texts. She answered a new one from Zawadi with a link to an IG fashion story about the Atlanta visit.

 

 _Zawadi:_ _Fashion forward!!!_ _Thanks for the signal boost!_

 

She smiled, genuinely happy she could help the young woman’s career. That’s ultimately what this entire tour was about.

 

_Shuri: You and Kaikara had me looking right!_

“You’re smiling, Princess. I take it this time by the pool is doing you some good?” Ayo said as she lifted her sunglasses.

 

“Just got a text from Zawadi.”

 

“Ah, one of your stylists. Their work was stellar. If I may say, the varsity jacket you wore at the community center event was bold and interesting.”

 

“Thank you, Ayo. It was good not to wear a dress for a while. Also, it _is_ nice to sit here by the pool and relax. Maybe you should enjoy a nice fruity drink with an umbrella.”

 

Ayo laughed. “Only if it’s non-alcoholic. We _are_ still working.”

 

“I won’t tell the king if you won’t,” she joked and took a sip from a glass of something red and orange with a hibiscus bloom in it.

 

 

**SOMEWHERE IN THE UNITED STATES**

 

James—aka Spencer Hadrian—walked with Pierce Bremmer through an out-of-the-way warehouse on the seaport. Spencer made sure to mentally note his surroundings, which weren’t too different from any other warehouse, he supposed. This then left him to keep Pierce’s quirks and tells in the back of his mind.

 

The two men were followed by a pair of menacing guards, armed with their pieces strapped to their waists. They stopped in front of a wooden crate—one of hundreds and of various sizes—and Pierce used a crowbar to pop it open.

 

“As I said, Spencer—may I call you Spencer?”

 

He gave him a raised, let’s-keep-this-strictly-business eyebrow in response.

 

“Right, not sure if you like me yet. Anyway, _Mr. Hadrian_ , feast your eyes.”

 

He kept his reaction measured, as though he were feigning interest. The kimoyo beads were set on one side of the container, while on the other side was some Stark Industries tech—computer chips it looked like—server blades.

 

“So far, so good, Mr. Bremmer. Have you anything else you can show me?”

 

“Well, if you recall those three SHIELD helicarriers that shot each other outta the sky a few years ago over D. C., we did manage to salvage a few goodies from the crash sites. Heard that the man in blue had lost the shield. Too bad we couldn’t find _that_ sucker.”

 

Hadrian took in a deep breath without showing it. James knew he’d been involved in the disaster. He knew he’d fought Steve Rogers, shot, stabbed, and beat him nearly to death.

 

 _You’re my mission_.

 

He blinked. “At any rate, these items from the helicarriers, where are they?”

 

“Right this way,” Pierce said and started walking further toward the back, the two goons never far behind.

 

Spencer watched as he cracked open another case, which did indeed contain what looked like the ships’ laser cannons, at least the ones that had survived.

 

“Your thoughts, Mr. Hadrian?”

 

He smirked and nodded. “Looks like you’ve earned my business, Mr. Bremmer.”

 

“Excellent. And please, call me Pierce.”

 

Hadrian takes his outstretched hand. “I’ll be in touch, Mr. Bremmer. Expect to see me here before the end of business tomorrow.”

 

He turns to leave, and the two goons follow him out to ensure no surprises.

 

**MIAMI**

 

Shuri sat at the desk in her suite, surrounded by the finest items on the room service menu—her period struck out of nowhere, and it pushed her appetite into overdrive. She was hard at work making notes on a speech she was to give at a function in her next city. In the middle of her third playlist, she looked at the full moon gleaming outside her open balcony doors.

 

 _Had it looked like this, the universe blooming inside him when we made love?_ she wondered. _A big, bright moon and countless stars glimmering against the blackness of space?_

 

Her heart lurched at the memory of James’ words the day he was exiled. She never told him that she felt the same way.

 

_Where is he?_

 

She walked out onto the balcony in her short silk pajama set all covered with cartoon roses, felt the light breeze flutter the fabric.

 

_Bing!_

 

Her eyes widened, and she ran back to the desk and grabbed her phone.

 

**SOMEWHERE IN THE UNITED STATES**

 

James felt around for the light switch in this unfamiliar space, finding it on the foyer wall opposite the door. He didn’t bother putting the bags of takeout in the kitchen. He threw off the Spencer Hadrian persona, deactivated the mask and took the thin material from his face. He set the mask on the bathroom sink and grabbed his phone from his pants pocket.

 

He was impatient waiting for the phone to blink to life and open the texting function.

 

“Come on, come on!” James griped as he clicked all the locks on the door with one hand.

 

He hadn’t gone straight back to the house after his meeting at the seaport. He’d spent a few hours out and about doing some normal everyday activities to keep the possibility of Pierce Bremmer becoming suspicious low. James could in no way afford for this operation to go south at any point.

 

Finally, he accessed the phone’s texting function and sent his first message in two days.

 

 

**MIAMI**

 

 **_2W_ ** _: Hey love_

**_Shuri_ ** _: Two days, James! WTF??!!? Really?!!_

 

She felt a tear slip down her cheek as she picked up the phone and walked to her bed with it and crawled under the covers. Relief flooded through her and caused the tears to come fast and furious. _He’s alive! He’s okay!_ He’s also in hot water.

 

 **_2W_ ** _: Couldn’t be helped. Forgive me?_

_Please!_

_I love you._

 

 **_Shuri_ ** _: I love you too. I don’t forgive you right now, but I love you. Are you really okay?_

**_2W_ ** _: Yes doll. Honest._

**_Shuri_ ** _: You just saying that to keep me from worrying? I tried not to worry…emphasis on TRIED. It’s not working._

**_2W_ ** _: I miss you. I’m doing my best but I miss you so much. It’s unbearable being away from you._

**_Shuri_ ** _: Did you by chance see the moon tonight? It’s beautiful._

**_2W_ ** _: I haven’t looked to tell the truth. Not very romantic of me._

She laughed slightly and drew her knees closer to her body.

****

**_Shuri_ ** _: Not very romantic at all…_

**_Shuri_ ** _: Are you taking care of yourself?_

**_2W_ ** _: ??_

**_Shuri_ ** _: Eating well, keeping your mind active, taking care of your hair and skin?_

**_2W_ ** _: Nothing’s as good as home. I make do. I read a little bit. Only good skin stuff I have is Palmer’s cocoa butter and the matching bar soap._

_If you were here I’d eat real well!_

“OMG, boy, really?” she guffawed to the empty room.

 

 **_Shuri_ ** _: True…_

**_2W_ ** _: Yep_

**_Shuri_ ** _: LOL!!! Naughty!_

****

**_2W_ ** _: Yep_

**_Shuri_ ** _: Get some sleep love._

**_2W_ ** _: Ok. I’ll sleep a lot better if you forgive me._

**_Shuri_ ** _: Thinking it over…still in my feelings_

**_2W_ ** _:_ _☹_ _Come on, baby! Please!_

**_Shuri_ ** _: You beg sooo beautifully! I love it!_

_I forgive you. I know it’s not your fault. It’s just hard._

**_2W_ ** _: I understand. I love you with all my heart._

**_Shuri_ ** _: Your courage has brought you far. Have courage…for both of us. ILY._

**_2W_ ** _: Good night gorgeous._

**SOMEWHERE IN THE UNITED STATES**

 James shuts his eyes for a few minutes, the phone resting against his forehead, as though he could absorb something from it. He gets up from the chair and goes to the window where the blinds are closed. He peeks out at the full moon. James almost hates himself for not noticing sooner.

 

It’s the most amazing he’s seen it look in a long time.

 

  **MIAMI**

_I’m the loneliest I’ve ever been tonight_ …

 

Brandon Boyd sang from the “Miss You” playlist on her phone. She’d had it looping for at least an hour and a half since she’d gotten off the phone with James. The song…so ambient and dark…and fitting. Shuri felt profoundly alone at the moment, and the only person _on_ her side wasn’t _at_ her side.

 

Every time their conversations had to end, all she felt was lack. It was so taxing on her body and her mind and her soul, the fact that James wasn’t with her. She craved his text threads, as it was all they had right now, but they were never enough for her—and not for him either, she surmised. Texting never felt grounded or secure, as though he could drop off the grid and go back to a life of surviving by his wits. _How could one feel so empty and so heavy all at once?_ She knew it would feel that way until she got him home—next to her, within reach, tangible and touchable, breathing the same air, and sharing the same space.

 

_Home._

 


	5. The Eyes Have It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James' alternate identity draws closer to the center of a dangerous smuggling ring. He finally sees the love of his life in person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why does this stranger seem familiar?

**WAKANDA**

King T’Challa met with several of the Avengers in his situation room, with Okoye at his side. Iron Man, Captain America, Ant Man, Black Widow, and Nick Fury sat around the table, tinted windows overlooking a vast and verdant landscape.

 

Even though the group exchanged pleasantries, their moods and faces were serious, and so they got right down to business.

 

“The smugglers, apparently, specialize in weapons and tech,” Tony Stark began. “We’ve found our goods all over the globe—London, Brandenburg, Portland, Oregon, Vladivostok, New Orleans, and Cairo so far.”

 

T’Challa rested his chin on the edge of his hand. “I would surmise that their customer base is terrorists of every stripe.”

 

“True,” Natasha piped in. “There’ve also been a fair number of data mining cells and hacker rings trying to get their hands on the SI server blades.”

 

Tony said and stood up to stroll around the table. “Not really my newest or most advanced items, but valuable enough, it seems. The Stark name does mean quality. Even criminals know not to try their luck with Hammer’s defect-ridden trash.”

 

“Stark, can we stay on topic, please?” Nick Fury rose and walked up to the holographic display, a glowing map of the globe floating above the group. “While we are on the lookout for the tech, I don’t have to tell all of you how vitally important it is we get back whatever survived the helicarriers’ destruction.”

 

“You think there might be some leftover Damage Control scavengers out there?” Steve Rogers asked. “If that’s the case, they might have otherworldly items on hand. That could mean a whole other set of problems.”

 

“Well,” T’Challa leaned forward, “I’ve been following these activities for about a month now. One of our agents working in Mozambique sold some low-functioning kimoyo beads to a man he met there. It wasn’t until now, however, that I learned the ring has taken tech from Stark Industries _and_ SHIELD.”

 

“Your Majesty, you _knew_ about this?” Nick Fury asked, his good eye widening in shock. “You could have told us before now.”

 

Okoye changed her stance ever so slightly, switching her spear from one hand to the other.

 

“First and foremost, Director Fury, as king of Wakanda, I am able to operate unilaterally on behalf of my nation. Secondly, I did not know the extent of this group’s reach until a short time ago. It was my intention to gather you and all of the Avengers here to discuss what we might do about these smugglers. You just happened to get in touch with me first.”

 

“Everyone, please, let’s table the debate on diplomacy for another time,” Natasha said. “King T’Challa, what else have you discovered?”

 

“The SI server blades were used to steal vital information from Roxxon Oil.”

 

Tony stroked his precise beard. “Hence, New Orleans showing up on the map.”

 

“What could they possibly want from Roxxon?” Scott Lang asked.

 

“Roxxon, as well as several other petroleum companies, have been trying to push their way into the Arctic for drilling,” Tony said. “Could be sabotage by competitors. They recently had a big data dump of their own, which took place right after the date the server blades were tracked to New Orleans. At the very least, these guys have the corporate world and governments everywhere a little on edge, if not flat out running scared.” 

 

Steve Rogers leaned back a little in his chair. “All right, your Highness, Tony. What’s our play? These guys clearly have a tech fetish, so what will we need to draw them out into the light?”

 

T’Challa stood and glanced at Okoye, then back at the group. “I suggest for now that we continue to wait and watch. I have an asset dealing closely with the main suppliers. So far, he has gathered suitable evidence, but I believe we will need more to act. While you as Avengers do not need my approval to take action, I will ask that we hold our positions, just until the evidence is a bit more solid. That will also give us a bit of time to make plans for an attack.”

 

The group looked at each other and finally nodded their approval of T’Challa’s suggestion.

**WASHINGTON, D. C.**

Spencer Hadrian/James and Pierce Bremmer sat at a secluded table in the back of a high-end restaurant. He nursed a glass of scotch while Pierce munched heartily on a medium rare T-bone.

 

Spencer/James let his eyes peruse the restaurant’s lunchtime clientele—mainly younger men and women, 25 to 45 maybe, of different races and ethnicities and combinations thereof. He surmised by their style of dress that most of them were federal workers from the various government agencies or maybe corporate types. He thought to himself how different this was from when he was a kid growing up in Brooklyn…that it was good.

 

During his time under HYDRA’s control, James had not been able to witness the history he’d had a hand in shaping. After he’d had his mind reconstructed in Wakanda, he would often spend time reading about and studying major world events—civil rights, Tiananmen Square, the Los Angeles riots, the Berlin Wall, and the Iraq War among them. He found himself overwhelmed at times when he thought about all he missed. He also often wondered how many of these things had been directly affected by his hand.

 

“See something interesting, Mr. Hadrian?”

 

“Huh?” James turned his attention back to Pierce and took another sip from his drink. Pierce drank from his glass of red wine.

 

“Seems like you were drifting off,” he said.

“Oh, uh, it’s nothing. Just people watching, I guess.”

 

“Well, getting down to business, we have the server blades you wanted. Unfortunately, we only have a few sets of the kimoyo beads in stock, about 500, so that pretty much wipes those out. We’re not sure when our contact in Mozambique will be able to get more or how many he can get his hands on.”

 

“I hear a but in there,” James said skeptically.

 

“I’ll level with you, Mr. Hadrain. So that we’re clear, my boss and our organization really appreciate your business. However, he believes he can fetch a higher price for the laser cannons.”

 

James blinked. “I thought he agreed on the price I originally offered.”

 

“We did. Like I said, though, my boss thinks he can get a lot more for them. But, fortunately for you, you still have a shot at getting them for yourself.”

 

“You’ll forgive me, Mr. Bremmer, if I find this…disconcerting. Have I not been straightforward with you and your associate?”

 

“Oh, absolutely. If it were up to me, the cannons would be yours immediately upon payment. But, it’s his prerogative, so…”

 

James blew a steady stream of air out of his pursed lips, turned his nearly empty scotch glass in his hand. “And what would I have to do?”

 

“Just put on your snazziest duds and be at the Wharf Marina tomorrow night by eight. District Pier.”

 

“Wharf Marina?”

 

“Yeah, the boss is having a nice little soiree on his yacht. We shove off at eight-fifteen.” He takes a piece from his bread and uses it to sop up drippings from the steak.

 

James nods slowly before he answers. He wasn’t sure what game they were playing, but he couldn’t afford to be wary now. “All right, Mr. Bremmer. I’ll see you at eight tomorrow.”

James stands up and pulls on his gray suit jacket. He takes two crisp fifty-dollar bills from his wallet. “And to show that I’m still very interested in the merchandise, and to maintain goodwill, lunch is on me,” he says and sets the bills down.

 

Before Pierce can ask any questions, James is headed out the exit of the restaurant.

 

**BALTIMORE**

 

Shuri strolls across the stage, her remote in hand and her presentation slides behind her. Dressed in a youthful, smart business suit, she smiled toward the audience, she spoke with authority. She soldiered on.

 

“What we are discussing today is _all_ , all people, all things, all circumstances. A nation’s control of its natural resources—be it land or minerals or water—is a vital part of the health of its people. What we _all_ have, the very earth beneath our feet, is something that we should _all_ agree is meant to nourish and sustain _everyone_. And when corporate entities stake claims on and mismanage and irreparably damage that which should be available for everyone, _all_ of us will eventually lose out. Lack and thirst and hunger will knock on every door. A big part of our solutions _will be_ inclusion—not _may be_ or _should be_ —will be.”

 

Shuri beamed humbly as the lengthy applause punctuated the end of her introduction. She used the time to look.

 

_Maybe tonight_ , she thought as she scanned the audience.

 

***

 

James walked into the auditorium on the university campus. He’d parked the vehicle he drove about a mile-and-a-half from the campus and slid by security by blending in with a random group of people, one of many straggling about in the lobby. The place was nearly full, and he had to take a seat in an upper level of the middle row. He kept the mask activated as he settled among a few strays with seats between them. No one would bother him. Over his shoulder, a spotlight was cast toward the stage, and its heat prompted him to remove his jacket.

 

There she is— _his_ woman. So smart and caring. So delicately beautiful. He _loves_ her so much, loves her in ways he thought he’d never be able to feel. It was wonderful to lay eyes on Shuri in person again, even if there were at least eighty feet and hundreds of people between them. In the eleven months they’d been apart, James had merely been surviving. Doing the best he could.

 

Holding onto hope. Feeding on it.

 

He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

 

***

 

The applause died down once again, and Shuri continued, a hint of disappointment lilting her voice.

 

“Wherever technology takes us in the future, one of its central tenets should be equality, fairness, and practices that demand the preservation of natural resources. It is indeed the only way the rising tide will lift all boats. We need to also ensure that all boats can withstand the wave.”

 

Shuri takes a deep breath and glances once again toward the audience.

 

She didn’t understand the feelings currently roiling inside her. _What is going on?_ She thought tensely. What was it about the green-eyed gentleman in the middle row that had drawn her attention.

 

***

 

James Buchanan Barnes had an undeniable warmth and sincerity about him, and Shuri had seen it the minute he stepped into her laboratory years ago. Beneath the pain and degradation HYDRA had subjected him to, his near inability to even remember how to smile, his inner strength and beauty refused death. She didn’t know why, but she was drawn to the man buckling under the weight of the last seven decades.

 

So, he just _had_ to know how preposterous it was that he thought he could hide from her with green contacts and a blond wig. _Like really_?

 

That’s why at the post-presentation dinner the university hosted at her hotel’s ballroom, Shuri’s mind shifted away from the boring speaker at the podium back to James and how badly she wanted right now to text him. With the Dora so nearby, though, that would be a risk she could ill-afford to take.

 

Still, questions plagued her. The scenarios—many of them ugly—stampeded through her mind like angry bulls.

 

_Is he in danger?_

_Is someone forcing him to work for them?_

_Has he been snatched up once again by HYDRA?_ That one almost made her faint.

_Where is he?_

_What is he doing now?_

_Has he made it back to whatever hiding place he’s staying?_

 

_What was he doing at tonight’s assembly?_

_Has he changed into another disguise?_

 

Shuri drove her nails into the palm of her hands and didn’t hear when the speaker wanted her to come up to the dais and accept a plaque as a token of their appreciation for her visit. Ayo nudged her slightly, breaking her from her reverie, and she walked up to the podium. The speaker moved aside so that she could say a few words. Internally, she rolled her eyes, but she then immediately put on her princess smile.

 

“Well, what can I say? First and foremost, I’m honored to be in the presence of everyone here, and I deeply appreciate you coming out to the lectures,” she said as she turned the plaque in her hands. “I’m also quite pleased to be able to lend any help necessary to uplifting young people. The path to success varies from person to person, but I firmly believe that all those paths go through a vital stop known as education. Stay encouraged, young people, everyone really, learn something new every day. You have gifts that this world desperately needs— in you are scientists, doctors, writers, attorneys, professors. Develop those gifts and give _yourselves_ the chance to rise above. We’ve seen heroes like the Avengers in action, but believe it or not, people need you to be heroes. Thank you.”

 

The short off-the-cuff speech was met with a standing ovation as she made her way back to her seat. A band played smooth jazz as the guests dined on very mild Jamaican jerked chicken and rice and peas. All the while, she desperately hoped that when she returned to her room and checked her phone, there would be a message from James.

 

Between dessert and the tea service, her leg bounced so much that Ayo took notice of the vibrations.

 

“Princess Shuri, you seem excited…or nervous. Is there trouble?”

 

“No, no, Ayo, I suppose I’m a bit antsy.”

 

“Well, you best calm yourself. You will be meeting with several dignitaries soon.”

 

“Yes, all right.”

 

She groaned within. Would this night go on forever?


	6. Bad Guys and Bad Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crazy dreams cause concern for Shuri. 
> 
> Sgt. Barnes gets closer to the object of his mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wakandawinterprincess, lilithenaltum, Jedi_Queen, MissFit, Leodicaprih0e, shardsofglass (rayoflight), Yalegirl03, Oopswakanda, Miinayi, Violette31, Vamp, Peacheschica, TexannaRose, AndIBecametheStars, CindersAndBrimstone, yubarta, rxinventlove, AggressiveApple, 2Shay, Aoluas Anminti (AoluasAnminti), Izzyabra, NotAsSweetasASweetPotato, Beefybuckyismylife, Aleja21, sensevida, Katieb161, taryny_16, asianlovingmexican, sarcasticeyebrow, DazzledByTheNorthman, Imisstx, Rebeca_hale, chizoma, luckywabbit651, Lizard979, TheRavynFire, Jensfanfics, ShalaGurl, peauetosque, designtechdk, rmforever, Keira_63, SweetHufflepuff (LoviSobakunorozu), jojo16, marvellousholland, CatCat2008, divaribelle, IcedAcidPopsicle, RoyalWolf, angleico315678, capsshuri, Guiniqua, Thelittlescrimshaw, whenxkilled027, 4WakandaWithoutQuestion, Yuzuvier, ShootingStar13, littledarkone, HillElizabeth, shurismp3, writingforeverapassion, queenb1609, Madnesse, livdameron, cannotthink, yellowsuns, Autiger01, nina09, and EysabellePerfume, softspots, argella1300, MusicTruthLies, Suni_Gyrl, mymeanttofind, Sorce, Space_Cadet_2021Read, AmyIsARealPhelps, xDangerxZonex, Starflower992000, uniqueisbetter, babyshan211, Meatball42, PaintPott, yuhellis, RM_Worthington77, truth_submarine, alexjanna91, LisMaknae, cyaneidae, raavan, Jade01, Cao_the_dreamer, UngarnMoc.

**BALTIMORE**

 

When Shuri returned to her room, she eagerly closed her door behind her, heedless of the Dora who didn’t even get the “good night, princess” past their lips before she disappeared. She toed off her shoes and made the journey toward her bed, tugging down the zipper at the back of her dress along the way. She didn’t bother changing into proper sleepwear. The slip she was wearing would have to do. The giant bed beckoned her to plop down, and so she did. Shuri was just so tired…and deeply worried.

 

She reached for the phone in the nightstand drawer and powered it on.

 

“Hurry it up,” Shuri groused as she waited for the screen to light up.

 

The icons finally popped into view, and she turned the screens until she arrived at the text function. The only new messages were from Romonda and Nakia. Apparently, T’Challa was still maintaining his distance. _Wise move_ , she thought with bite.

 

Shuri let out a long stream of air as she fell back against the pillows, hollowed out by disappointment. Nothing. As tired as she was, her head was still racing with questions about James Barnes’ well-being.

 

She picked up the phone once again and re-opened the text stream they had shared over the course of her trip. Intermittent smiles and short laughs escaped her body. The princess recalled every emotion she felt during those conversations, many filled with tears, anger, and melancholy at the distance between them and her not knowing his whereabouts. The text stream ends. Its date is only three days earlier, but of course, it feels like forever.

 

Wherever the soldier was now, Shuri was positive she had seen him in the audience earlier in the night. _Why was he wearing a disguise?_ She wondered. She looked at the last message, her fingers poised and ready to send another, but for some reason, she couldn’t do it.

 

Maybe she wasn’t in the right head space, or she had yet to sort out how she would approach the subject of his being at her lecture.

 

Shuri finally gave up trying to untangle her thoughts. She’d had a long day and was too drained to do anything, except hope and pray that James was safe.

 

 

**ON THE POTOMAC**

 

             The yacht was luxurious and well-appointed, like any of them would be, Sgt. Barnes supposed. At 150 feet, he wondered how the thing didn’t take up the entire river. The night breeze whipped through James/Spencer Hadrian’s blonde hair and caused him to gather his suit jacket closer around his ears.

 

            Through the image-inducing mask, the Avengers could see and hear all the action. The design had been tweaked by Tony Stark so that it did not give off a detectable signal. With no earpiece, he couldn’t talk to them, but they would see if or when trouble started.

 

            The blare of the ship’s horn rattled him slightly, and Pierce Bremmer appeared on the deck. He came up next to Spencer/James and leaned back against the rail.

 

            “Nice night for a little sailing, Mr. Hadrian?”

 

            “Better night for a little dealing,” he answered. “You’ll forgive me if I’m more of a land-lover.”

 

            It was true. James thought back to those bare-bones tenements in Brooklyn in which his family had been cramped. The whole neighborhood could have fit on this boat. He’d never known much else growing up. Joining the Army had been his opportunity to escape that hell hole. He figured back then that if he could get something better than the tiny apartment for his family, he’d be fine.

 

            Of course, dying in the war only to be resurrected as HYDRA’s favorite assassin rather got in the way of any plans he had for returning to the states and putting his GI Bill funds to good use.

 

            Still, though, when he thought about the path his life had taken, James knew he would do it all again if it would lead him to the young genius who’d put his mind and body back together, who’d patiently loved him back into humanity. He’d incurred a huge cost in loving Shuri—being kicked out of Wakanda and taken away from her had been the highest cost. If nothing else, this mission would prove that his loyalty remained with the secretive country, its people, and its princess.

 

            Pierce finally took a deep breath and turned to face the water. “No worries, things should be pretty straightforward. Make the big man an offer he can’t refuse, and we all walk away happy…and rich.” Pierce elbows James and the two lean up from the railing to head below deck.

 

 

**WASHINGTON, D. C.**

 

           “Okay, Avengers, we have visuals,” Steve Rogers says. “We can see everything Bucky sees.”

 

            “You recording all this, FRIDAY?”

 

            “I wouldn’t be very useful to the mission if I didn’t, Mr. Stark.”

 

            The team—Cap, Iron Man, and King T’Challa—gathered around the monitors of the control room they’d set up in an old warehouse about a block from the riverfront. Black Widow and Hawkeye were stationed along the water ready to strike at the captain’s command. Sam kept watch from about a mile up in his flight gear. Everyone figured the team’s heavy hitters—Hulk, Thor, Wanda, and Vision—wouldn’t be needed to handle a smuggling outfit. Such power as they could bring would have attracted too much attention.

 

            “Widow, Hawkeye, Sam, report,” the captain says.

 

            Natasha’s voice came clearly through their earpieces. “No action yet, Cap.”

 

            “Things are clear from on high,” Sam adds.

 

            “At the rate the yacht’s moving should be another twenty minutes before it’s upon us,” Hawkeye says.

 

            “Okay, good,” Steve sighs. “Everyone, hold your positions.”

 

            Steve hazards a glance toward T’Challa whose mouth is pressed into a straight line. His eyes remain focused on the images on the holoscreens, while he’s running through every possible outcome in his head.

 

            “T’Challa, Bucky knows what he’s doing,” Steve says. “He’s been in tighter situations than this.”

 

            “You are right, Steve. Forgive me if my concern is interfering with our concentration.”

 

            “Well, your majesty, your concern is understandable,” Tony says when he momentarily glances away from the screens.

 

            In truth, T’Challa’s nerves stemmed, in large part, from guilt. Upon learning about the smuggling of Wakandan tech, the king sought Sgt. Barnes’ aid in dealing with the problem—the very same Sgt. Barnes he’d banned from ever returning to the country months earlier. He didn’t necessarily _want_ the former Winter Soldier’s help in the matter, but T’Challa understood that Barnes knew how to operate in these situations, knew that he could think quickly on his feet and move with uncanny stealth. It was the king’s grudging acceptance of those facts and his own stubborn devotion to logic—and Okoye and Nakia’s notorious willingness to humble him—that led him to track Barnes to the states and find him temporarily occupying the guest bedroom in Sam Wilson’s D. C. apartment.

 

            Sam, who had been sensitive to the thick tension in the room, gracefully made his way out of the apartment. “I’ll leave you two to discuss…things.”

 

            T’Challa, not being one to beat around the bush, came right out with his request, fully expecting the soldier to reject it.

 

            Sgt. Barnes had sat quietly considering the appeal, his deep blues contemplative and unreadable. “Okay,” he’d said after a long moment.

           

            T’Challa gave a slow nod, more so from astonishment than anything else, but he’d managed to keep that under wraps. James bowed slightly with both arms across his chest.

 

            “Whatever you need will be at your disposal, sergeant. I and the Avengers will include you in the planning of the mission.”

 

            Now, looking at the screens and seeing the dangers Barnes is facing chiefly for the sake of Wakanda, the king wonders if he himself is truly the villain in all this. Shuri was barely saying three words a week to him, and he sometimes came upon some of the village children who asked when their friend the White Wolf would return. A popular Wakandan comic strip artist even published a cartoon of a stoic Winter Soldier being fed to a hungry panther in a pit. That one _still_ hurt his pride.

 

            The king decided that after this mission, he would talk again with Sgt. Barnes.

 

 

**BALTIMORE**

 

 

            “No, no…don't hurt him! Don’t! Please!” Shuri moaned, her fists wringing the pillowcases. “Stop! You’re killing him!”

 

            She did her best to try and sleep, but her nightmare was too powerful. In it, she and James held hands and rested in his hammock, when out of nowhere, armed thugs in tactical gear snatched him out of her arms. They grabbed her and hauled the two back to a dreary lab. She was held in place by two goons who forced her to watch as James was strapped to a chair and shocked by nodes attached to his head and chest. She watched him cry, watched him try to reach out to her, and she could do nothing.

 

            “Noooo! You can’t do this to him!”

 

            “Princess! Princess! Wake up!”

 

            Shuri shot up awake with sweat causing her slip to cling to her. She rubbed her eyes, and Ayo soon came into focus. She looked up to see the other Dora, Barika, standing behind Ayo with a glass of water and a wet cloth.

 

            “What happened?” Shuri breathed.

 

            Ayo placed a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “You were having a bad dream.”

 

            “Heavens, I’m sorry to have woken you two.” She flopped back against the pillows and covered her eyes with a forearm as Ayo reached to Barika for the glass.

 

            “Here you are, your majesty, drink this water.”

 

            “Thank you.”

 

            They watched as she drained the glass. Barika gave her the cloth, and she dabbed at her sweaty face, neck, and cleavage.

 

            “You gave us quite a scare, princess,” Barika said. “If something troubles you, we are more than happy to help.”

 

            “Yes,” Ayo chimed in. “You know that we will keep your confidence.”

 

            Shuri did know that and was glad. She also knew they knew about what happened with James, so she didn’t bother recounting the details.

 

            “It was…just a dream…maybe a little more vivid than I’m used to. Must’ve been that food from the banquet.” Shuri tried to laugh it off then set the cloth on her nightstand. “I’m okay now. Thank you both for coming to see about me.”

 

            “Of course, princess,” Ayo said.

 

            She watched as both ladies returned to their suite through the adjoining door.

 

            Shuri tried once again to go back to sleep. All she could do was stare at the ceiling.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone would like to do a following chapter, feel free and tag me.
> 
> I'd be quite interested to see what direction others take it.
> 
> As always, do feel free to comment.


End file.
